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THE SON OF THE WOLF
cold and hunger of the endless forest by the Russian Seas.
Besides, Unga was mine, and I had paid for her an untold
price of skin and boat and bead.
“And in this manner we came through the white forest, with
the silence heavy upon us like a damp sea mist. And the ghosts
of the past were in the air and all about us; and I saw the yellow
beach of Akatan, and the kayaks racing home from the fi shing,
and the houses on the rim of the forest. And the men who had
made themselves chiefs were there, the lawgivers whose blood
I bore, and whose blood I had wedded in Unga. Ay, and YashNoosh walked with me, the wet sand in his hair, and his war
spear, broken as he fell upon it, still in his hand. And I knew the
time was met, and saw in the eyes of Unga the promise.
“As I say, we came thus through the forest, till the smell of
the camp smoke was in our nostrils. And I bent above him, and
tore the ptarmigan from his teeth. He turned on his side and
rested, the wonder mounting in his eyes, and the hand which
was under slipping slow toward the knife at his hip. But I took it
from him, smiling close in his face. Even then he did not understand. So I made to drink from black bottles, and to build high
upon the snow a pile of goods, and to live again the things which
happened on the night of my marriage. I spoke no word, but he
understood. Yet was he unafraid. There was a sneer to his lips,
and cold anger, and he gathered new strength with the knowledge. It was not far, but the snow was deep, and he dragged himself very slow. Once, he lay so long, I turned him over and gazed
into his eyes. And sometimes he looked forth, and sometimes
death. And when I loosed him he struggled on again. In this way
we came to the fi re. Unga was at his side on the instant. His lips
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JACK LONDON
moved, without sound; then he pointed at me, that Unga might
understand. And after that he lay in the snow, very still, for a
long while. Even now is he there in the snow.
“I said no word till I had cooked the ptarmigan. Then I
spoke to her, in her own tongue, which she had not heard in
many years. She straightened herself, so, and her eyes were
wonder-wide, and she asked who I was, and where I had
learned that speech.
“I am Naass,” I said.
“You?” she said. “You?” And she crept close that she might
look upon me.
“Yes,” I answered; “I am Naass, head man of Akatan, the
last of the blood, as you are the last of the blood.”
“And she laughed. By all the things I have seen and the
deeds I have done, may I never hear such a laugh again. It put
the chill to my soul, sitting there in the White Silence, alone
with death and this woman who laughed.
“Come!” I said, for I thought she wandered. “Eat of the food
and let us be gone. It is a far fetch from here to Akatan.”
“But she shoved her face in his yellow mane, and laughed
till it seemed the heavens must fall about our ears. I had
thought she would be overjoyed at the sight of me, and eager to go back to the memory of old times; but this seemed a
strange form to take.
“Come!” I cried, taking her strong by the hand. “The way is
long and dark. Let us hurry!”
“Where?” she asked, sitting up, and ceasing from her
strange mirth.
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THE SON OF THE WOLF
“To Akatan,” I answered, intent on the light to grow on her
face at the thought. But it became like his, with a sneer to the
lips, and cold anger.
“Yes,” she said; “we will go, hand in hand, to Akatan, you
and I. And we will live in the dirty huts, and eat of the fi sh and
oil, and bring forth a spawn, – a spawn to be proud of all the
days of our life. We will forget the world and be happy, very
happy. It is good, most good. Come! Let us hurry. Let us go back
to Akatan.”
“And she ran her hand through his yellow hair, and smiled in
a way which was not good. And there was no promise in her eyes.
“I sat silent, and marveled at the strangeness of woman.
went back to the night when he dragged her from me, and
she screamed and tore at his hair, – at his hair which now
she played with and would not leave. Then I remembered the
price and the long years of waiting; and gripped her close, and
dragged her away as he had done. And she held back, even
as on that night, and fought like a she-cat for its whelp. And
when the fi re was between us and the man, I loosed her, and
she sat and listened. And I told her of all that lay between, of
all that had happened me on strange seas, of all that I had done
in strange lands; of my weary quest, and the hungry years, and
the promise which had been mine from the fi rst. Ay, I told all,
even to what had passed that day between the man and me,
and in the days yet young. And as spoke I saw the promise
grow in her eyes, full and large like the break of dawn. And I
read pity there, the tenderness of woman, the love, the heart
and the soul of Unga. And I was a stripling again, for the look
was the look of Unga as she ran up the beach, laughing, to
173
JACK LONDON
the home of her mother. The stern unrest was gone, and the
hunger, and the weary waiting. The time was met. I felt the
call of her breast, and it seemed there I must pillow my head
and forget. She opened her arms to me, and I came against her.
Then, sudden, the hate fl amed in her eye, her hand was at my
hip. And once, twice, she passed the knife.
“Dog!” she sneered, as she fl ung me into the snow. “Swine!”
And then she laughed till the silence cracked, and went back
to her dead.
“As I say, once she passed the knife, and twice; but she was
weak with hunger, and it was not meant that I should die. Yet
was minded to stay in that place, and to close my eyes in the
last long sleep with those whose lives had crossed with mine
and led my feet on unknown trails. But there lay a debt upon
me which would not let me rest.
“And the way was long, the cold bitter, and there was little grub. The Pellys had found no moose, and had robbed my
cache. And so had the three white men; but they lay thin and
dead in their cabin as passed. After that I do not remember, till
I came here, and found food and fi re, – much fi re.”
As he fi nished, he crouched closely, even jealously, over the
stove. For a long while the slush-lamp shadows played tragedies upon the wall.
“But Unga!” cried Prince, the vision still strong upon him.
“Unga? She would not eat of the ptarmigan. She lay with
her arms about his neck, her face deep in his yellow hair. I
drew the fi re close, that she might not feel the frost; but she
crept to the other side. And I built a fi re there; yet it was little
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THE SON OF THE WOLF
good, for she would not eat. And in this manner they still lie
up there in the snow.”
“And you?” asked Malemute Kid.
“I do not know; but Akatan is small, and I have little wish
to go back and live on the edge of the world. Yet is there small
use in life. I can go to Constantine, and he will put irons upon
me, and one day they will tie a piece of rope, so, and I will sleep
good. Yet – no; I do not know.”
“But, Kid,” protested Prince, “this is murder!”
“Hush!” commanded Malemute Kid. “There be things
greater than our wisdom, beyond our justice. The right and
the wrong of this we cannot say, and it is not for us to judge.”
Naass drew yet closer to the fi re. There was a great silence,
and in each man’s eyes many pictures came and went.
Литературно-художественное издание
Jack London
The Son of the Wolf
Выпускающий редактор: И. Краснова
Редактор: П. Воронин
Корректор: И. Иванова
Компьютерная верстка: Т. Серёгина
Художественное оформление: М. Кылосова
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